Bite Marks
by Myrddin Emrys The Third
Summary: Hermione wakes with a hangover and a rather prominent bite mark on her shoulder. Dramione, M for wood. Veela Draco.


**Hi all! So, this story was sitting on my laptop with nothing done for it, until the other day when I wrote the first five paragraphs, then today, wrote the rest in one go. This is the most writing I've done for awhile, the most I've** _ **wanted**_ **to do, but that's how the ball's been rolling for me lately.**

 **Still, I hope you all enjoy this story whose characters I don't own. ;)**

 _ **Bite Marks**_

Hermione groaned as her mind drifted into wakefulness, her head thumping loudly and her neck aching like crazy. Last night she'd been out with her friends, celebrating her promotion at work, and it seemed that she'd had more than she'd intended, if the hangover that now plagued her was any indication. Not to mention the fact that she was more than a little sore, too. It took a moment for her to really catch up on that thought, and when she did, she froze.

Sore? As more awareness came to her, Hermione realised that she could feel silken sheets against bare skin, and her heart stopped a moment, before hammering furiously. There was a definite ache between her thighs and deep inside of her, so the only thing to do was to figure out who it had happened with, and if she needed to hex them. But who could it be? The only way she was going to get answers was to roll over and see if anyone was here with her.

God, she hoped it wasn't Ronald! Or Cormac, for that matter. Both wizards would present a can of worms she _really_ didn't want opened, for different reasons! Carefully moving her head to one side, her body following, she cracked her eyes open and saw the wizard that had shared her bed the previous night. At the sight of platinum blond hair, she squealed in surprise, then slapped a hand over her mouth, not wanting to wake him up.

Draco Malfoy! She'd slept with Draco _freaking_ Malfoy! Even drunk, surely she had better sense than that? Hermione shifted backwards on the bed, only stopping at the edge. Watching him in repose, she supposed that he didn't look half as obnoxious as usual, but that still didn't negate the fact that she'd slept with someone she detested, and who detested her right back. After everything that they'd all been through in the war, and the Malfoy's were as bigoted as ever.

Slowly so as to not wake the sleeping wizard before her, Hermione crawled out of bed and tried to locate her clothes. Her Blouse was over a chair, her skirt in a heap on the floor, and her bra was hanging off the edge of a dresser. Her knickers were torn to shreds, absolutely useless unless she used reparo. She moved quietly to avoid waking Malfoy, and slowly to reduce the throbbing soreness of her thighs and insides. Knickers repaired, she carefully pulled them on, wincing slightly as she did so.

The sex last night must have been pretty incredible, she thought, glancing at Malfoy as she did up her bra. There was hardly a spot that didn't ache in some way, and, eyes flitting over what she could see of the sleeping blond, Hermione noted that she seemed to have reciprocated it. She noted a few scratches and bite marks marring Malfoy's pale skin even as she tugged her skirt up over her bum and reached around back to zip it up.

Hermione paused a moment to stare at Malfoy's repose form, her head cocked to the side as she considered him. Before last night, which she really didn't recall much of after her sixth shot of firewhiskey, it had been a _really_ long time since she'd had mind blowing sex. Yet the scratches and bites stood as evidence that last night probably blew those other times out of the water. Huh…

She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she stared at him, for a moment considering staying and waking him, possibly for another round. But then she snapped out of her reverie. _What the heck am I thinking? It's Malfoy! As in, Malfoy, the stuck up, snarky prat who thinks that you're not even good enough wipe his shoes!_ But then, why did he sleep with her last night?

Deciding this train of thought was better left examined later, after she'd downed a hangover potion, Hermione grabbed her blouse and pulled it on, keeping an eye on her previous night's paramour. As she buttoned up, her gaze wandered through the room, trying to locate her shoes. There seemed to be no sign of them, until she stuck her head into an adjoined ensuite. The sight of her strappy red heels on the tiled floor drew her in, and as she straightened up after bending down to grab them, she caught sight of herself in the mirror.

That was one _heck_ of a hickey!

Eyes slightly wide, Hermione craned her neck to get a better look at the large love bite on the left side of her neck. It seemed as though Malfoy had bitten hard, really sinking his teeth in and drawing blood. Her fingers brushed over it lightly, causing her to wince slightly at even that delicate contact. Its tenderness gave her pause, including the fact that when she leaned in closer to the mirror, she could swear she saw actual puncture marks.

Still, it was nothing a simple healing spell wouldn't sort, once she got home.

With that in mind, Hermione left the ensuite, determined to sneak past Malfoy and get the hell out of there. But when she emerged, she froze on the spot at the sight of said wizard sitting up and watching her with guarded eyes. What? Why was his gaze _guarded_?

"You're up," he noted, and he frowned as he continued, "And you're dressed."

"Look, Malfoy," Hermione began, but he interrupted her.

"I thought we agreed to call one another by our given names, _Hermione_ ," he spoke sinfully, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"I do not recall agreeing to that," she said rather prissily, then had to force herself from letting out an embarrassing little 'eep' as he stood from the bed, uncaring that he was naked and sporting a morning erection. She blushed as the thought of him having been inside her last night flitted through her mind.

He moved over to her and raised his hand to her face, a finger stroking from her temple, down the side of her face, along her chin, then down to the bite mark on her neck. "You did," he whispered in her ear, moving close enough that his erection prodded her, gently but insistently. "Right before I kissed you, like this."

That was the only warning she got as he lowered his mouth to hers, capturing her in a sweet, yet decadent kiss. Hermione's grip on her shoes loosened until they fell to the floor with a thud, and she began returning his kiss in earnest. Her hands came up to rest on his chest, and his moved to cup her face, one falling after a few moments to her waist to pull her closer. Hermione lost herself completely in the kiss, and it was that completeness that fired something in her brain and she pushed him away from her.

"What is it?" he asked, the concern in his voice surprising her.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy-"

"-Draco-"

"-but I can't… I need to _leave_."

Hermione was utterly shocked, gazing up at him, when his eyes started to darken. "Why?" he practically growled. "Was last night not enough? I _told_ you what was happening, so…"

She stopped him there. "I was drunk, last night," she told him. "I don't remember a thing."

Hermione's eyes widened at the pain that briefly flashed across his face as his grip on her loosened and he stepped back a little. "You don't remember…?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm sorry, Malfoy," she said.

"Draco," he spoke automatically, then stepped back from her completely, even as she avoided looking downwards at his prominent manhood.

She shook her head. "I don't know why we slept together last night," she spoke. "After all, I'm just a dirty little mudblood to you and your family."

"Don't call yourself that!" he practically snarled at her, and her eyes widened in shock. "I told you last night that that doesn't matter to me, whether you remember or not!"

"B-but, you _hate_ me, Malfoy!" Hermione practically stammered. "You've certainly never shown anything but disgust during school! Or even after, when you worked at the Ministry a couple of years ago!"

"I don't hate you," he told her. "Never have, really. And I haven't called you… _that_ word… since school."

"You may not have," Hermione said, "but your father certainly has. Just last week, in fact."

Malfoy groaned, briefly covering his face with a hand. "I'm not my father, Hermione," he said. "I don't share his beliefs, no matter how much he wants me to."

They stared at one another for a moment, then he sighed and spoke, "I suppose I should tell you what I told you last night," he said, then took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. "I'm a veela, and last night, you accepted that you're my mate."

"Wh-what?"

Hermione was in shock. _Veela!?_ How could that be? And yet, even as she stared at him in astonishment, she realised that his white-blond hair and fair skin could definitely be passed off as veela traits. Funny that she never really thought about that, considering Fleur Weasley, née Delacour, who looked as if she could easily be distantly related to Malfoy.

As Hermione's senses started settling, she noted that Malfoy was pulling on a pair of pants, though his morning erection was still there, straining at the fabric. Her brain felt kind of broken, yet at the same time, she realised that… The mark on her shoulder! He _bit_ her! There was _veela venom_ in her bloodstream as she spoke! She pushed desperately at the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

"You _bit_ me," she whispered, and his attention shot to her. "You marked me when… when I was _drunk_! Why did you do that?"

Her voice rose several octaves and that panic began to well up again. It was pushed down again, but not by her. "You're… you're _influencing_ me," she said. "Stop it!"

That feeling instantly stopped and then there was panic again. "I'm sorry," he told her. "It was instinctive. I felt your panic and just… reacted."

"Just… just leave me be, Malfoy!" she warned him, and hurried over to the door, forgetting about her shoes.

She wrenched the door open, only to come face to face with none other than Narcissa Malfoy. The horror that Hermione felt was most assuredly reflected on her face, and the embarrassment that overwhelmed her threatened to swallow her whole. Especially when she noted the woman's eyes dart to Hermione's shoulder, then over to her son, and a critical look entered her eyes.

"Draco," Narcissa spoke, her voice clear and cultured. "Won't you introduce me to your… guest?"

Hermione gulped at the tone of her voice, even as she inwardly scoffed at it. It seemed, by the way she'd spoken, that Narcissa was still just as prejudiced as her husband. The two of them were the perfect pureblood couple, snooty and contemptuous of anyone they considered beneath them. Though she did wonder, briefly, which of his parents was the one to pass on the veela. Probably his father, all things considered…

"You already know her, mother," Malfoy said a bit stiffly.

"Be that as it may, propriety insists that you properly introduce us," his mother sniffed haughtily.

Malfoy sighed, and Hermione chanced a glance at him. He didn't look too happy about things, something she could relate to.

"Mother, this is Hermione Jean Granger," he said formally. "Hermione, this is my mother, Lady Narcissa Aludra Malfoy."

"You know your father won't approve," Lady Malfoy said. "He's been trying to pair you off with other witches he considers more… suitable."

"It's not up to him, and he bloody well knows that!" Malfoy snapped, practically bellowing at his mother.

"Language, Draco," she told him, scolding him. "Compose yourself, I was simply stating facts."

"Well, the fact of the matter is that Hermione is my mate," Malfoy said. "And there's nothing he or anyone else can do about it."

 _Nothing_? Hermione's gaze whipped from Malfoy to his mother, seeking the truth of the matter, and finally Malfoy looked down at her, and noted the confusion on her face.

"If you'll excuse us, we have a lot to discuss," he told his mother, and pulled Hermione back into the bedroom, before politely closing the door, if such a thing was possible.

"Don't forget about the luncheon planned this afternoon, Draco, your father and I will be expecting you… both…" Narcissa's voice called through the door, then her footsteps were heard walking away.

Once they were definitely alone, Malfoy dragged a hand through his hair, then turned his gaze to her. Hermione felt uncomfortable under his stare, and finally he spoke, "I'm sorry about everything. But no matter the circumstances, you _did_ accept me last night, otherwise you wouldn't have the mark on your shoulder."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I mean that the veela instincts wouldn't have allowed me to," he told her. "Because you're my mate, I have an innate need to never hurt you. Marking you against your will would have hurt you, and even thought you're regretting it this morning, it still counts to the veela within me."

They were silent for some time, then Malfoy sighed and moved to her, raising her chin so that she was looking directly at him. "I really don't hate you," he murmured. "I was mostly envious of you in school, what with you and your grades, your friendship with Potter. You know the basics of what I was taught growing up, what most purebloods were taught. You challenged all of that, made me question those ideals, and _that's_ where all my teasing and torment came from."

"If that's the case," Hermione asked as she stared into his steel grey eyes, "then why did you continue after the war? Why were you still talking down to me, making me think I was worthless?"

"Because you were still with Weasley," he told her, "and it fell automatically from me. Besides, by then I'd figured out that you were my mate, yet you were tied to another, and there was nothing I could do. Even when the two of you broke up, and you hooked up with that tosser, McLaggen…"

He shuddered dramatically.

"You still should have said something to me," Hermione spoke. "The law…"

"The law wasn't on my side," he reminded her. "At least, not until all those revisions you and Kingsley made, anyway. I've been wondering, why did you do that?"

"Fleur asked me to," she admitted. "Her sister's mate was someone she couldn't otherwise have, since he wasn't French and bound by those laws."

Malfoy nodded. "Then I suppose she and I were in the same boat, then," he noted.

He lowered his head then, kissing the side of her cheek even as he whispered in her ear, "Please, accept me," his breath tickling her ear and sending a shiver down her spine. "I need you, I _love_ you, Hermione."

She pulled back with a gasp. "You _love_ me?" she asked incredulously.

"How could I not?" he returned. "You're beautiful, witty, kind hearted, able to hold intelligent conversations."

"Stubborn, know-it-all, bossy bookworm with a stick up her arse," Hermione retorted, throwing words he'd spoken, and recently, both to and about her, back at him.

"There's nothing wrong with being stubborn," he told her. "Or being a bossy, know-it-all bookworm. And as for the stick up your arse, well… If it wasn't completely removed last night, I'd be more than willing to help you with it right now…"

His hands moved down to cup her bum, giving her a light squeeze. Hermione gasped as a small jolt of something pleasurable shot through her and, remembering her thoughts earlier about how good the sex must have been the previous night, she found herself incredibly tempted. But she knew that she still needed time to absorb everything.

"Maybe later," she said, slightly surprised at how cheeky she sounded. "For now, could we just… talk? Get to know one another? If we're going to do this, I want to do it right. Please, Malfoy?"

"Alright," he agreed, reluctantly letting go of her arse. "As long as you call me Draco."

"I can do that," she told him. "Thank you… Draco."

He grinned, then his head came down and he captured her in a sweet yet passionate kiss, and Hermione knew, somewhere inside of her, that all of this, her and Draco, was _definitely_ going to work out.

 **So what did you think? Review please!**

 **Ps: I really wanted to put a full on lemon in this, but any time I write, I just follow wherever my muse leads, and my muse wrote me into a corner and there was no room for the lemon. :( Oh well, maybe next time. ;)**


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